


Lunch Break

by HaniTrash



Series: Small Packages [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky With The Good Hair, Bucky is A Sassy Little Shit, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Hair-pulling, M/M, because he just needs his Daddy sometimes, daddy Steve Rogers, let's not forget about Bucky's cock cage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26283676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaniTrash/pseuds/HaniTrash
Summary: He hears Steve’s phone get placed on the table. “Hey, Steve, you want to—” His question to his husband regarding the need to break for lunch is cut off with a snarl and a fist tight in his hair at the nape of his neck.“If you can’t find something to do with your hair, I can help you put it to better use,” Steve grinds out, and Bucky’s eyes fly open as he gasps, partially in surprise but also at the sting of the pull. He hadn’t even heard Steve moving.Their gazes lock, and Bucky can feel the difference in the air between them before he even takes in the heated look on Steve’s face. Doesn’t mean he’s going without a fight, though.“Is that so?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in a show of—what? He believes Steve, wants whatever the man has decided to give him, so it’s not defiance. But he can’t stop the sassiness in his voice when he continues. “You got any good ideas? I’m always open to receive suggestions for something different.”In which Bucky's hair gets really long, and Steve can only handle just so much distraction...For the Hell Yeah Bottom Bucky Bingo square "Age Difference" and the double-square fill for "Bucky's Hair"
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Small Packages [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670113
Comments: 29
Kudos: 223
Collections: Hell Yeah Bottom Bucky





	Lunch Break

Bucky had been overdue for a haircut when the accident happened. Then, he’d been stuck at home for three months and hadn’t gone anywhere except to the doctor and physical therapy, so he hadn’t seen the point in getting it cut—not that he’d been physically able to anyway, though Steve had said that he would find someone to come to the house.

And then, well, the world stopped because of the virus.

The point was, hair that usually barely brushed his shoulders was now well past them, and every day he considered grabbing the scissors and just chopping it off.

He was playing with it now, unconsciously twisting it around his hand and running his fingers through it as he stared at the computer screen. Sam’s face stared at him from his laptop on the table next to the computer. Everything was all a giant mess. Their formal dining room had become a sea of cables and papers and screens as Steve had commandeered it for a work from home office at the beginning of the whole nightmare. Bucky hadn’t been able to do stairs at first, had been reduced to living on one floor of their five-story home. Steve’s office was on the fourth floor, so he’d moved down out of necessity to be available to assist Bucky. Then, when Bucky had been able to resume work—albeit in a from-home capacity—Steve had just added another computer to the mix. That made two desktops—and Steve used _two_ monitors—and their two laptops. Plus the multifunction printer/copier/scanner…. 

Bucky hated it. Not that they’d even really ever _used_ the formal space except for holidays and times when they had friends over—and, of course, the few occasions over the years when Steve had lain Bucky out on the table and fucked him on it—but it was the principle of the thing. Their home was no longer the calm oasis it once had been away from lines of computer code and video conferences.

“I don’t know, Sam,” Bucky snaps out now, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, you can try it, see how it plays out when you run it. I’m not seeing anything else that might work. The code is already pretty fucking tight.” He throws an arm out, gesturing angrily at the screen before him. “I don’t know what else they think we can do for them without rewriting the entire fucking program, which they do _not_ want to have to pay us for.”

Sam winces, and when he answers, his tone is calming and placating. “Yeah, I can point that out to them again.”

“It’s like they think they’re the only ones with increased traffic and hits right now!” Bucky complains. “They think we can just drop everything for them. They’re not even our biggest client, for Christ’s sake!” He pulls his hair across his jaw and holds the ends between his lips, pressed tight together in annoyance.

“You need a haircut, man. Look at you.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” he says, dropping the hair from his mouth and combing it back behind his ears with his fingers. “Alright, man. If you’re good with this, I’ll let you go. I’ve gotta figure out what the fucking holdup is on the damned SSR project.”

“Sounds good. Take it easy on yourself, though. Don’t forget to get up and move, stretch your leg.”

“Yes, _mom_.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry. I have a super strict boss who makes sure I’m following the doctor’s orders and _not doing anything strenuous_ ,” he snips, eyes flicking over to Steve as he paces the far end of the room, phone to his ear.

Sam laughs as they end the call. Bucky feels Steve’s gaze on him and looks up to find a disapproving look on Steve’s face. He sticks his tongue out in response and starts playing with his hair again, twisting it around into a bun that just falls out because he doesn’t have anything to secure it with. He pulls it over his shoulder and tries braiding the ends together, abandoning the attempt when it starts to become a jumbled mess and brushes it back out. Steve’s lips have all but disappeared with how tightly he’s got them pressed together, and he points at Bucky’s computer, a look of annoyance on his face now, clearly saying _‘get back to work’_ while he paces away again, still on his call.

Bucky smirks as he closes his laptop and saves his work on the desktop. He’s caught Steve eyeing his hair more than once lately, especially when he’s playing with it, but he hasn’t said anything else about Bucky getting it cut. Bucky leans over the back of his chair, stretching his arms over his head, t-shirt riding up to expose his stomach, before he drops them back into his lap with a heavy exhale. He lets his head hang back, eyes closed as he rolls his neck and shoulders, back arched up to stretch it out. Dining room chairs are not meant for extended sitting, but Steve won’t let him use an office chair with wheels right now. Plus, he needs to prop his leg up onto another chair, elevate it and stretch it out while he does his strengthening exercises. It’s nice that Sam is still so concerned about his recovery, though, considering he’d been the one to dislocate Bucky’s knee and rupture the tendon connecting his thigh muscles to said knee during a bad collision playing basketball.

He hears Steve’s phone get placed on the table. “Hey, Steve, you want to—” His question to his husband regarding the need to break for lunch is cut off with a snarl and a fist tight in his hair at the nape of his neck.

“If you can’t find something to do with your hair, I can help you put it to better use,” Steve grinds out, and Bucky’s eyes fly open as he gasps, partially in surprise but also at the sting of the pull. He hadn’t even heard Steve moving.

Their gazes lock, and Bucky can feel the difference in the air between them before he even takes in the heated look on Steve’s face. Doesn’t mean he’s going without a fight, though. Not when it’s been so long. He takes a measured breath, tries not to get too excited or hopeful, though Steve’s hard-on can be clearly seen through his pants, eye level as it is to Bucky at the moment.

“Is that so?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in a show of—what? He believes Steve, wants whatever the man has decided to give him, so it’s not defiance. But he can’t stop the sassiness in his voice when he continues. “You got any good ideas? I’m _always open_ to _receive_ suggestions for _something different_.”

He wasn’t open, that was the problem. Despite the fact that Bucky very openly restarted his cleaning and grooming regimen the moment he was able to, Steve hasn’t fucked him in damn near _six months_ now. Bucky is getting goddamned tired of hand jobs and blowjobs, both giving and receiving. Steve was being overly cautious about Bucky’s knee, and positions, and bearing weight, and, and, and. He had a fucking _list_ of reasons why they weren’t properly fucking, and Bucky was ready to explode.

“I do,” Steve answers, voice low and rumbling. Bucky can _hear_ the warning in the tone, see it in Steve’s eyes, darkening to that deep shade of blue they get when— _oh. Oh god yes please finally,_ Bucky thinks to himself.

Steve slaps a hand on the table in front of him. “I think it’s about time you put this back on. That mouth of yours is getting pretty out of line. Think I’ve been going _too_ easy on you, let you get too comfortable at home.” He tips Bucky’s head forward, and Bucky looks down to see his cage there. His heart rate kicks up in his chest even as his dick hardens in a nearly Pavlovian response to the sight. Steve almost always needs to make him come first before he can lock him away, because the thought of having his cock controlled like that makes him hot, even as much as it calms him once he’s in.

“Think it’s about time you remember who put _this_ on you,” Steve growls in his ear. The hand holding his hair twists around and Steve gets two fingers under the edge of the band circling Bucky’s neck and pulls it tight.

“Maybe _you’re_ the one who needs to remember,” he snarks, and Steve responds with a growl, tightens the pull on Bucky’s collar, puts pressure on his windpipe and restricts his breathing.

Bucky whimpers, even though he’s still staring daggers at Steve out of sheer stubbornness at this point. The tension on Bucky’s collar eases and Steve tips Bucky’s head back sharply.

“You gonna be good for me now, sweetheart? Gonna let me sort you out, fix that pissy attitude of yours?”

“’S your fault anyway. You _should_ be the one to fix it,” he shoots back, mouthing off before he can stop himself.

Steve’s expression falters, eyes softening. “You’re right, sweetheart. I’ve been too cautious, too careful. I see that now. I’m sorry. Thought I was taking care of you, but I wasn’t taking care of _all_ of you. I wasn’t listening to you when you tried to tell me.” His free hand cups Bucky’s face gently, thumb stroking over his cheekbone.

“’Cuz you’re so goddamned stubborn,” he pouts.

“So are you, sweet boy. Part of why I love you so much,” Steve answers, leaning over Bucky and brushing their lips together lightly. Bucky moans, insides melting at the pet name that hasn’t been uttered in months, arches up into the kiss and wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders. Steve licks into his mouth, deepens the kiss, turning it filthy and full of promise.

 _“Daddy,”_ Bucky sighs when they part, hands stroking through Steve’s own over-long hair. “Daddy, I’ve missed you,” he adds, pressing small kisses to Steve’s cheeks above his close-trimmed beard.

This time it’s Steve who makes a strangled sound. “Sweetheart,” he starts, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been a good Daddy to you. I’ve been too focused on your leg and work to see you were hurting in other ways. Forgive me?” His hands cradle Bucky’s face gently, thumbs stroking soft circles over his cheeks.

“You gonna take me upstairs and fuck me like you mean it? Show me how sorry you really are?”

Steve blinks slowly, smiles indulgently at him, and presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. “You gotta promise to tell me if your leg hurts so we can adjust positioning, okay?”

“Promise,” Bucky agrees, nodding eagerly. “Please, _please_ Daddy. I need you.”

“My good boy. I know. I’ve got you. You’ve been so patient with me.” He pulls Bucky to his feet and wraps his arms around him, pulls him in for a kiss. His hands slowly work their way down from Bucky’s shoulders to his ass, massaging as they go, until he grabs two handfuls and lifts. Steve’s always been able to pick him up like he weighs nothing, and it’s even easier now that Bucky has lost muscle weight because he hasn’t been able to go to the gym or utilize all the equipment Steve has at home. Bucky reaches out and snags the cock cage from the table before he wraps his arms arounds Steve’s neck. Steve shifts one arm to bear the brunt of Bucky’s weight and slides his other hand along the back of Bucky’s thigh, holding his injured leg steady as he heads for the stairs.

“Mmm, what a big strong man. Is he gonna carry me off to his bed and ravage me?”

 _“Our_ bed, smartass. And I’ve been carrying you up and down these stairs for…” Steve pauses on the landing and _looks_ at Bucky as sudden understanding hits him. “Oh, baby. Oh my sweet boy. Sweetheart. I’m _so_ sorry,” he says, chagrined. He presses Bucky’s back to the wall and kisses him, grinds against him. “I didn't realize it was that long. I wasn’t paying attention. Oh, Bucky. I’m so sorry.”

Bucky grabs Steve’s hair and pulls him back. “Take me to bed, Daddy.”

Steve turns and moves with renewed purpose, striding quickly down the hall once they reach the next floor. Bucky is kissing Steve’s face and neck, everywhere he can reach, rubbing his cheek along Steve’s beard, cat-like, because he hasn’t had a good beard burn in so long that he’s dying for it. Steve sets him gently on the bed, doesn’t even bother pulling the blankets back. Bucky quickly strips his clothes off and adjusts the compression wrap around his knee. Steve is faster, though, and Bucky’s eyes go wide when he hears a button go flying. It amuses him, that Steve still wears button-up shirts and slacks while working from home, while Bucky is sitting around in sweatpants and a tshirt most days. Steve throws his clothes in a pile, another thing that never happens, and Bucky is certainly not going to complain about the renewed enthusiasm Steve has for this.

Bucky lays back, lets Steve work his way up his body until they’re kissing again, cocks sliding against each other as Steve rolls his hips. Bucky can feel the strength in Steve’s arms as he holds himself up, keeping as much pressure off of Bucky’s lower half as possible, and heat floods his system at the casual display. It’s times like this, with Steve’s massive body making his own seem so small, that it’s easy to forget that his husband is a dozen years older than him, in the back half of his forties.

“Get the lube, baby,” he tells Bucky as he starts to slide back down. Bucky twists his torso and yanks the drawer open on the bedside table as Steve’s mouth closes over his cock. Steve has given him what feels like hundreds of blowjobs in the last four months, since they’ve been sleeping in the same bed again, but this one is different. The others had been more cautious, more careful, reserved, as Steve worried as much about putting weight on Bucky’s leg as he did about giving Bucky pleasure. But now, he’s _devouring_ Bucky’s cock, sucking and licking at it like his life depends on it. Bucky shoves the lube down to him and Steve never ceases his efforts as he pops the cap open and slicks up his fingers.

Bucky moans when Steve circles his rim, coating him, getting him ready. “Daddy,” he pleads.

“Shh, sweet boy. I’ve got you,” Steve shushes, pulling off to watch Bucky as he slides one long finger in. Bucky keens, rolls his hips, tries to take him in deeper. Steve’s free arm comes across his hips and holds him steady.

“Bucky. _Baby._ Who’s in charge here, hmm? _Trust_ Daddy. It’s been a bit, sweetheart. Gotta make sure you’re good and ready for me. Don’t want to hurt my good boy who was so patient and waited for me to pull my head outta my ass.”

“I’d much rather your head was in _my_ ass,” Bucky pants, squirming and writhing on just two fingers already. His sass earns him a nip on the inside of his thigh, and Steve smiles up the length of his body.

“Next time I’ll get my mouth on this greedy hole of yours, sweetheart. Don’t think either of us has that kind of patience right now, though.”

Bucky groans as a third finger joins the other two, the stretch just the right side of painful, and then Steve’s mouth is on his cock once more.

“Steve! Please, I don’t want—not yet. On your cock, please.”

Steve pulls off with a wet pop and rises to his knees. “You good like this, baby? What do you need?”

Bucky knows that Steve isn’t asking him about the orgasm he’s fighting off, but checking on his leg. “I’m good. I promise. Just need you.”

Steve withdraws his fingers and adds more lube to his hand to slick himself up. He grabs Bucky’s good leg behind the knee and pushes it back, opens Bucky up for him and lines himself up. Bucky feels the blunt pressure of Steve’s cock and he cries out as the head breaches his rim and Steve slides in, doesn’t stop until their hips are flush against each other.

“Fuck, yes, Daddy! Oh god I missed your cock inside me, oh yes, thank you, thank you…”

Steve groans as he rolls his hips, grinding in small circles as Bucky’s body adjusts once again to the feel of Steve’s thick cock inside him. “Fuck, sweetheart, how could I think we didn’t need to do this sooner?”

“Wait, legs up,” Bucky pants, and it takes Steve a moment to realize what Bucky is asking for.

“You okay, baby?”

“Jus’ a smidge sore. Lift ‘em up, straight—yeah, like, _ohhhhh fuck I have the best ideas…”_ Steve lifts Bucky’s legs so that Bucky’s calves are resting on his shoulders, and Steve wraps one arm protectively around Bucky’s injured leg to hold it steady. Which is nice, and considerate, because the previous position _had_ pulled a bit at the muscles and hadn’t been overly comfortable. But the main benefit of this position is how _deep_ Steve is driving into him now, how _full_ he is as Steve’s cock teases along Bucky’s prostate on each long, slow drag that Daddy is torturing him with.

“This good, baby? You feelin’ okay?”

“Feel better if you put your back into it,” he taunts, knowing what his mouth is likely to earn him. Steve doesn’t disappoint, and drives into Bucky with force, drawing a pleasured moan from Bucky’s throat.

“That enough _back_ in it for you, baby? Hmm?” Steve’s words are punctuated by the slapping of his hips against Bucky’s, and Bucky pries his eyes open—he doesn’t even know when he closed them—to drink in the sight of Steve, body chiseled and god-like, on his knees and pounding into Bucky like it’s nothing, and Bucky isn’t even sure if the man is breaking a sweat yet.

“ _Fuck_ yes, I fucking _love_ your cock, fuck you feel so fucking good, fucking missed this, oh, fuck, Daddy, I’m gonna come already, oh, yes, _yes,”_ Bucky tips his head back, throws his arms up above him to brace himself against the headboard, and just a few strokes later he’s coming, a hoarse cry of _Daddy_ screaming from his lips.

Steve fucks him through it, pace slow and measured as Bucky comes down from the high of release. He whines when Steve pulls out and lets his legs down, but Steve is immediately kissing him. “Roll over, sweet thing,” he says, with a nip to Bucky’s bottom lip. 

Bucky moves as requested, and when Steve pulls a pillow down and shoves it under Bucky’s hips, he spares half a brain cell to worry about the mess already on his stomach before deciding that’s Steve’s problem. 

“Good, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” he breathes, face turned to the side. Steve’s body covers his, and he lifts his head for an awkward kiss, more tongue than finesse, while Steve’s thick cock slides back inside him. “ _Fuck,”_ Bucky groans, breaking the kiss to pant against Steve’s lips. Steve’s legs bracket his own, and he braces his arms on either side of Bucky’s shoulders as he lifts his upper body and begins fucking down into Bucky. 

“This what my sweet boy needs? Huh? You need to be reminded whose you are? Need Daddy to fuck you through the mattress?”

“Fuck, ah, yes Daddy, _please_ Daddy, thank you!”

“This why you’ve been such a brat lately, huh? Don’t like the way Daddy has been taking care of you? Why you keep teasing me with this _hair?”_ Steve’s hand fists in Bucky’s hair at his words, pulling tight.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll get it cut, I’ll call—”

“Like _hell_ you will.” Steve growls as he yanks on Bucky’s hair, tips his head back, pulls hard enough to lift Bucky’s shoulders from the bed. "I've been waiting to get my hands in this hair for long enough as you healed." 

Steve slams into him, the hand in his hair holding tight onto Bucky, forcing him into a deep arch, and Bucky suddenly understands the pillows under him now as thrust after thrust nails his prostate at this angle. 

“Fuck, Ste— _god,_ fuck, yes, oh fuck you feel so good, fuck, oh don’t stop, please, thank you Daddy…” Bucky is babbling, his brain having long since melted with his first orgasm. He’s aware that he’s drawing close to another one, thanks to the assault on his prostate from Steve’s dick that’s steadily milking him, emptying him. He tries to fight off the orgasm, knowing that once Steve has pulled it out of him, he’ll start chasing his own release in earnest, and he doesn’t want this to end, not now that he’s finally getting the fucking he’s been longing for. 

“C’mon, baby, let me have it. Let’s drain that pretty little cock of yours so Daddy can get you all put away. That what you need, sweetheart? You need to be back in your cage, with your ass full of my come? You want me to plug you up, keep me in there as long as you can? Keep you ready for more?”

Bucky cries out as the orgasm overwhelms him and his cock makes a valiant attempt to join the party, adding a few small spurts of come to the mess beneath him. 

“Just need you, _Daddy,”_ he finally manages.

Steve comes with a groan at Bucky’s words, stills his hips as he pulses deep inside him. The tension on Bucky’s hair lessens, and Steve’s lips find his temple as they collapse together to the bed.

“You’ll always have me, honey. Always.” Bucky reaches an arm up and holds Steve’s head to his as they catch their breath. Steve releases Bucky’s hair and strokes down his side, presses gentle kisses to Bucky’s neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“Shh, baby. It’s okay, Daddy. We’re okay.”

After a minute Steve slides his now-soft cock from Bucky. “Don’t move,” he rumbles in Bucky’s ear, and Bucky happily obliges, riding the endorphin high and enjoying the boneless feeling of being well-fucked. The bed shifts as Steve returns, and Bucky hisses as the cold metal of a plug nudges between his ass cheeks. 

“Open up for me, honey, come on. Gonna let you keep that. You earned that, sweet thing.”

“Mmm, thank you, Daddy,” he hums, a soft smile on his face.

“Do you want your cage now? Or tonight, after I fill you up some more?”

“Now, please,” he grins, and rolls to his back. 

Steve gets a warm washcloth and cleans Bucky carefully before placing the metal cage on. He presses a kiss to the tip once it’s secure, and the familiar weight settles Bucky. _Daddy is in charge. He will take care of me._

“You planning on staying here? Or are you coming back downstairs and finishing work for the day?”

Bucky laughs and pulls Steve in for a kiss that stays chaste.

“How about I make us some lunch? Do you think my boss would mind me eating at my desk?”

“You’re such a little shit.” Steve chuckles and rubs his nose along Bucky’s. “Just make sure you’ve got that hair tied back. Or I might be tempted to pull it again.” 

Bucky grins as he watches Steve start to get dressed again. He is _never_ cutting his hair.


End file.
